What I Choose
by StudentofDust
Summary: Words have power. So why do we so often pretend they are meaningless? They most certainly are not...


The Chinese marketplace was flooded with people of all ages, shapes and sizes. Some of them were just getting off of work and were famished, in need of cheap yet filling sustenance. Some were schoolchildren who were there with their parents getting their evening meal. Still others were police officers and other government officials, discussing business over a steaming bowl of noodles and meat.

Then, there were the lovers. You couldn't miss them; they hung all over each other, like they were inseparable twins. Most were Chinese, considering they were in China. One couple, though, was conspicuously not like everyone else.

She appeared to embrace the punk lifestyle, wearing highlights in her hair and very rock-ish looking makeup. He, on the other hand, was much more demure, preferring a simple jeans-and-a-tee look.

As if they couldn't stand out enough already, the young lady was drawing fiercely in a small black drawing pad, and the man was spinning a chopstick on the tip of his index finger. If anyone deigned to look closer, though, they would see that there was a gap between his finger and the chopstick, as though he was spinning it in mid-air, never ceasing…

Suddenly, the girl stopped drawing and showed her work of art to her companion.

"So?" he asked. "You suck at art; I already knew that."

She stuck out her tongue at him. "This is serious. I just had another vision. Something's fixing to go down here, and we really don't need to be here when it does."

"Can we stop it?" he asked.

"It's doubtful, unless you're packing heat." She pointed down to her drawing again, showing the evil-looking men waving around pistols and automatic weapons.

"I'm a Mover, I can take care of myself."

"Ever been shot before?" she asked.

The man shook his head, and the young woman nodded.

"Exactly. I have, and it hurts like a bitch. I was with a Mover at the time, and she said later on that she was in so much pain, she couldn't even use her powers."

He finished up the rest of his ramen soup, then stood. "I believe you. So let's get out of here before we-"

Gunshots rang out, a few tables down from where they were. He looked over, and saw four men in black suits, brandishing weapons.

"Right, again…" he murmured. As one of the men spotted him, he levitated the chair behind him, and as the man raised his gun in his direction, he flung it towards him. The chair hit him in the chest and knocked him over.

He grabbed his companion's hand and they took off, gunshots echoing behind them.

They ran for what seemed like forever, before they finally ended up in a secluded alleyway. They stopped, breathing heavily.

"I should have believed you," he said. "We could have gotten out of there before everything went down."

"It's fine," his companion said. She pointed to an open-air café across the street. "Let's hide out over there for a bit."

They went over to the café like nothing had just happened to them. She ordered coffee, he ordered hot tea.

After they had been served and seated, he looked over at her. "What do you want?"

She looked utterly confused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, what do you want in life? Where do you see yourself being in five years, or ten years?"

She had to think for a minute before responding. "I would like to get my mother back from Division; that would be my top priority. After that… I don't know. Maybe move someplace safe, settle down with my mother, and whoever I choose to spend the rest of my life with."

"And who would that be?" he asked, teasing.

She said nothing, but took out her notepad again and started scribbling inside it. This time, she was only at work for a moment or two, before she stopped and put everything away.

"Vision ran out?" he asked.

She shook her head. "It had nothing to do with a vision. It was the answer to your question."

"Don't I get to see it?" he inquired.

She shook her head again. "Not right now. Tonight, though, after I go to sleep."

"That assumes we'll be together tonight, though," he replied.

She smiled that gorgeous smile of hers, and he couldn't help but be caught up in it, just like he always was.

"We will."

**Later That Night**

They pulled up into a shabby hotel, exhausted from the day's events. The men from the marketplace had found them again, and they had given them quite the chase. One of them was probably dead, but the others would live.

Finally, they'd gotten away and hidden until the sun went down around 9pm. Then, they made their way to that hotel.

After the room had been paid for, they went inside and dropped their things off. They both lay down on the bed, which was surprisingly comfortable considering the overall condition of the place.

She was out like a light, but he stayed awake for a bit longer, staring at the whirling fan blades. Suddenly, she took his hand into hers, clenching it tightly. He looked over to see if she was awake, but she wasn't.

It wasn't like he cared, either; he loved those rare moments when she would just spontaneously grab his hand and get all flustered about it.

Suddenly, he remembered what she had said about the answer to his question. He reached over her and took her sketch pad, flipping through it until he found what she had written. It was just three simple words, yet he felt power course through each and every one of them:

_I Choose You_


End file.
